Divertimento
by Aquila1
Summary: def –n. a momentary diversion. Sometimes a little diversion all you need to get you on the right track TIVA
1. Chapter 1

**Divertimento**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to NCIS, just the thoughts in my head.

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: def –n. a momentary diversion. Sometimes a little diversion all you need to get you on the right track

**Spoilers: **a few mentions of Knockout, Recoil and Dagger, but nothing big.

**Author's Notes**: This is another one based on a line, or in this case many lines. I'd been looking for years for a scene that I could build around the one time a friend tried to set me up on a blind date. Tony and Ziva turned out to be the perfect candidates. This is a story in two parts. I'm not quite done the second one, but I really wanted to get this up before the show derailed my muse. I hope you enjoy it.

* Again, a big thanks as always to my dear friend and editor Joy. We may not always see eye to eye on which rules of grammar you can bend, but you have by far the best eye for detail of anyone I know. Thanks for turning that eye onto my work.

**

* * *

Chapter 1**

Always trust your gut.

It was a rule he aspired to live by every day. It was a rule that had been drilled into his psyche from the moment he'd joined Gibbs' team and NCIS more years ago now than he'd care to admit. It was a rule that had served him well and right now, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's gut was telling him that something was seriously bothering his partner. His sixth sense might not be as well-honed as that of the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but as Tony watched Ziva beat the copy machine into submission, he had to admit that even the greenest Probie would be able to tell that something was hinky.

They'd been spinning their wheels on the Kaplan case for a few days now and it was starting to eat at everyone. Gibbs was even more snappish than usual and putting more force into his head-slaps. Tony's skull still smarted from the one he'd received that morning. Abby's music was increasing in volume in direct proportion to her frustration as she tried to milk a miracle out of the pathetic amount of evidence they'd managed to collect. Even McGee was starting to show his frayed nerves, returning Tony's attempt at playful jibes with bitter retorts. Yep, everyone was definitely on edge, but Ziva's irritation seemed different somehow. It seemed so much more... personal.

As the morning wore into afternoon, Ziva's frustration continued to mount, as did Tony's desire to know what was bothering her. Early in their partnership he would have been able to write off this gnawing need to get to the truth as just another manifestation of his inherent nosiness. The former Mossad assassin had always been an enigma and Tony had always loved puzzles, especially ones wrapped within a beautiful woman. But after nearly four years together, he was forced to admit that this relentless desire to know what made her tick stemmed from something much deeper than mere lust-driven curiosity. There was something about seeing her upset that just ate at him.

That fact had been viciously driven home a few months ago. The image of Ziva's tear-filled eyes as she watched Gibbs break the news of Agent Lee's death to her little sister still haunted Tony's memory. That fleeting, unguarded moment had been a like a punch to the gut. Her obvious vulnerability was shocking. He'd been suddenly and brutally reminded that under the steely exterior that she'd built around herself, Ziva was still a human being and, just like everyone else, she needed comfort and support now and then. What had been even more shocking was that she'd let him witness her vulnerability. In their years together, she'd never willingly let her guard down; she'd rarely ever let him see anything she didn't want him to see. Which was why letting him catch her on the verge of tears had left him speechless, frozen while she all but asked him for a shoulder to cry on.

He'd been useless, tethered to his chair as she'd disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. He hadn't done anything then, but he could do something now. Taking a deep breath, Tony made a beeline for the copy machine. However, as another string of Hebrew curses filtered to his ears, he conceded that he was probably taking his life in his hands.

Peeking around the corner into the alcove that housed the photocopier, he found his partner bent over the now lifeless machine. She was braced on the console, arms stretched out and head hung low as she drew in a series of what he assumed were calming breaths. Her long dark hair hung free, spilling over her face and back like a curtain. The line of her body spoke of exhaustion and ... sadness and if she weren't within arm's length of a potentially deadly hole-puncher, Tony might have given in to the suddenly overwhelming, and unexpected, urge to wrap her in his arms.

'_You just need to find the right woman.'_

Tara's words a few weeks ago slipped into his mind unbidden, like a devil on his shoulder, whispering dangerous thoughts into his ear. He might have been experiencing the dry spell to end all dry spells, but Tony knew that he must really be off his game if he was starting to consider his partner as 'right woman' material. Sure, she was easy on the eyes, intelligent, challenging and a great cook. Sure, when they weren't teasing each other mercilessly, they had a lot of fun together and she seemed to understand him better than anyone else in his life and- Tony shook his head forcefully, trying to shake off his thoughts. Ziva was _not_ a viable option. Besides, he was pretty sure that she was still in some way involved with the mystery man he'd found a picture of in her desk a while back. But, viable option or not, she was still his friend and from the looks of it, she could use a little help.

Still, he knew better than to sneak up on a Mossad assassin. Maintaining what he hoped was a safe distance, Tony cleared his throat.

As he'd expected, Ziva sprung upright, wheeling around to face her intruder, one hand on her holster, the other trying to surreptitiously wipe at her cheeks. Had she been crying again?

"Whoa there, My Ninja! I know they taught you to shoot first and ask questions later, but I don't think Gibbs would appreciate the paperwork."

"What do you want, Tony?" Her voice was flat and she refused to meet his eyes. Ziva held herself ramrod straight, as though bracing herself for attack. Tony couldn't quite brush off the sting that came from the realization that she expected that attack to come from him, but he tried to keep things light.

Leaning against the doorframe, he replied, "Well, you were scaring the Probies, so I thought I'd check to make sure you hadn't blown our office supply budget for this year."

Ziva fixed him with a sharp glare before quickly letting her eyes slide from his, focussing anywhere else she could.

"I am fine, Tony."

So much for keeping things light.

He sensed her movement before she actually made for the door. Stepping forward, he halted her progress with the wall of his chest.

"You don't look fine."

Inches from his face, her answering glower pinned him to the spot. Years ago, she would've frightened him, but now he could see past the bravado into the dark well of emotion beneath. Her breaths were shallow, feathering over his collarbone as she tried to see a way around him. The air between them grew thick as their bodies drew closer. His heart raced in anticipation as her eyes darkened and she drew her tongue across her bottom lip. He suddenly found himself re-evaluating his options.

Then just as suddenly, she started back a step as though burned. "Please, Tony."

The defeat and slight edge of desperation in her voice shocked the hell out of him. They'd found themselves on the edge before, but she'd never seemed so affected. Knowing that trying to keep her backed into a corner could seriously shorten his life expectancy, Tony relented, giving her the space she needed to escape. He could only watch, baffled, as she took it immediately, brushing past him as she all but ran from the room.

Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

The music reverberating off of the walls of Abby's lab was a welcome change from the cacophony in her head. Standing on the threshold to her inner sanctum, Ziva couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she watched the quirky forensic scientist flit about her workspace like a worker bee. Ziva could truly say that she'd never met anyone like Abby Sciuto. She had most certainly never imagined that she would end up befriending this rather unusual woman, however, here they were, four years later, and Ziva was shocked to realize that Abby was the closest friend she had in D.C., or really anywhere, for that matter. Somehow Abby had barrelled her way past all of her defences taking a place in her heart that had been empty for a long time. Empty since Tali had died.

She'd shut herself down after Tali's death, walling off her heart from anyone who might try to get close to her. It made her an efficient soldier, and her father had quickly folded her into the arms of Mossad, realizing the asset she would be as an operative. She took to the role of assassin gladly, hoping that with each target killed she might somehow reap vengeance for what those butchers had done to her sister and the thousands of others who'd succumbed to suicide bombers the world over. But her victories were always hollow, leaving her more unfulfilled with each strike, and Ziva slowly retreated into herself until all that was left was the shell of a highly-trained killing machine.

Coming to NCIS had changed all of that. She'd thought them weak when she'd first met them: Tony, McGee, Abby, even Gibbs. They lacked discipline, evident in the way they let their lives weave in and out of each other's, the way they tried to weave their way into hers. She'd fought hard to maintain the walls she'd spent most of her life building; they'd protected her and she hadn't been sure she even knew how to let anyone on in. No one without an ulterior motive had tried in a long time. Still, the barriers eventually started to weaken. Bit by bit, they chipped away, well Abby chipped for the most part, and she'd slowly come out of the skin she'd been living in for longer than she'd care to admit.

Going back to Israel six months ago had been confusing. She should've been happy to go back, to see her family, but Ziva had constantly been plagued with the feeling that she'd left her family behind. Watching Abby now, her heart warmed as she thought that Tali would've probably approved of the young woman who had taken over her job.

'_At least you've got one relationship in your life figured out,'_ she mentally chastised herself. Since her return to the U.S., Ziva had gladly resumed her place in the NCIS family. Abby and McGee slipped into the role of siblings easily and Gibbs' guidance brought her the comfort her father's orders never had. Tony … Tony was another matter altogether.

"Are you trying out some sort of new Mossad mind meld technique on me?"

Abby's amused voice found its way through the haze of her musings and Ziva's eyebrows knotted in confusion as her mind finally processed her words.

"Mind meld?"

Abby tisked, "Four years with Tony and McGee and you still haven't learned about Vulcans?"

Ziva could only quirk her head in response. She was used to not understanding everything the Goth said to her, but this was weird even for Abby. However, before she could try and make sense of the conversation, Abby switched gears on a dime.

"Never mind, waddayagot?"

Ziva shook her head in a vain effort to clear the remaining cobwebs from her mind before following Abby deeper into the lab.

'_Focus, David,'_ she admonished. She was way off her game this afternoon. It had been a long time since Abby had given her mental whiplash.

"I, uh, brought those oil samples you needed from Corporal Saunders' garage."

Abby's face blossomed at the thought of new evidence. "Thanks," she responded brightly, plucking the vials from Ziva's limp fingers before turning back to her workspace. "I'll just run these through Major Mass Spec and –"

Ziva suddenly had a pretty good idea what it must feel like to be a specimen under one of Abby's microscopes.

"What?" she asked in exasperation when it became clear that Abby had no intention of doing anything other than stare at her quizzically.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked finally.

"Nothing," Ziva replied quickly, breaking their staring contest and stalking over to the other side of the lab.

"Liar," Abby retorted with a smile, causing Ziva to spin back around to face her.

"Abby," she insisted. "Nothing's wrong. I am fine."

"Ziva," Abby replied patiently. "You're not fine. I haven't seen you this distracted since that whole thing with the guy who could've been a killer, but wasn't, but you didn't know that and his ex was missing and you -" Suddenly, Abby threw up her hands, silencing herself, as her whirling thoughts coalesced into a conclusion.

"Wait a minute! This _is_ about a guy, isn't it? But not _that_ guy, the _other_ guy, in Israel, Michael, right?"

Ziva slumped against the counter behind her, dropping her head to her chest and willing herself to be patient. Sure, she loved Abby like a sister, but she still wasn't overly keen about discussing her private life with anyone. However, she knew that Abby wouldn't let go of this. She would worry the subject like a dog with a bone, until she dragged the answers she was looking for out of her. Sighing, Ziva decided that she was better off just getting it over with.

Ziva sucked in a deep breath and keeping her eyes trained on the floor, she gave Abby an answer. "I ended things with Michael."

"Oh."

Whatever reaction she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. Ziva glanced up to find Abby trying and failing miserably to suppress her excitement behind a mask of feigned sympathy.

"Abby, do not bother trying. I know you didn't like him."

Abby had the good grace to at least try to look indignant. "How could I like him Ziva? I didn't _know_ him. Besides," she offered with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "You have a perfectly viable option much closer to home."

'_That is half of the problem.'_ Ziva fervently hoped that the blush she felt creeping across her cheeks wasn't as bright as it was warm. She responded instinctively, "My home is in Israel, Abby."

Abby squared her stance and stared back like a petulant child, the look only enhanced by her long black pigtails. "Your home, Ziva, is where you're surrounded by the people who love you and we both know that's not in Israel."

A sudden powerful wave of emotion rushed up to lodge in her throat and Ziva fought against the tears that threatened to breach the walls of her lashes. When Vance had sent her back to Israel, she had tried to convince herself that she'd been going home. However, the dull ache in her heart only grew stronger with each passing week away from D.C. Still, she'd tried: tried to mend things with her father, tried to be the good Mossad officer he'd always wanted of her, tried to settle back into life in a country that now felt foreign to her. Michael had been part of that plan, a tether she couldn't quite let go of, even once she'd returned to D.C. Being with him was safe and it kept her from straying in the direction her heart truly wanted to go.

'_Nothing is inevitable,'_ she'd once told Tony. Now she was starting to doubt her convictions.

Abby was right. She'd found her home among these people and cutting ties with Michael was her final acknowledgment of that fact. But, now she was lost. She truly couldn't go back anymore, but she had no idea how to move forward.

"You're doing it again." The laughter in Abby's voice snapped her back to the present with a start.

"Sorry."

"S'okay," Abby replied, pressing her fingers to her temples and closing her eyes in concentration. "I think I'm getting some of it this time." Opening her eyes, she fixed Ziva with an intense gaze. "You're confused and it's frustrating you. You don't have a safety net anymore and your heart wants something you don't think it should. You keep trying to talk yourself out of your feelings, but you can't and it's scaring you."

Ziva could only stare back wordlessly, wondering when she'd become so easy to read. Abby grinned broadly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she realized that she'd hit her mark better than she'd expected.

"Wow! This mind meld stuff really works!"

Growing serious suddenly, Abby moved in closer, completely unconcerned with the risk of cornering a Mossad assassin.

"Y'know, I'm not the only one who loves you around here."

"Abby," Ziva warned lowly, narrowing her eyes, but Abby was unperturbed.

"I mean Gibbs and Ducky, well they see you like the daughter they never had, well Gibbs had, but you know what I mean, and McGee loves you like a sister, well a sister who can beat the crap out of him. An' Tony –"

Ziva pushed off from the counter, taking a menacing step forward, silencing Abby's rambling.

"Abby! Stop. Tony is not a viable option."

The forensicist merely arched an eyebrow in response.

Ziva widened her eyes meaningfully. "Rule number twelve?"

Abby smiled. "I like to think of that one more as a guideline. I mean, even Gibbs couldn't follow that one."

"And look where that got them," Ziva muttered ruefully.

Abby looked stricken for a moment as she realized just who they'd been discussing. Still, she pushed the cloud from her mind and ploughed forward, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "So this is about a guy. Just not the guy I'd originally thought."

Ziva sighed heavily, pacing the space between the mass spectrometer and the counter like a caged lion. There was no use trying to hide with Abby. "This is ridiculous. We have worked together for years now."

"Yeah, and you two have had a 'thing' the entire time."

Ziva whirled on the other woman. "We do not have a thing. What is a thing?"

Abby laughed merrily. "You know, a 'thing', like this big cloud of unresolved sexual tension that follows the two of you around wherever you go."

Ziva simply stared back. "I do not want to have sex with Tony."

"No," Abby replied simply. "You don't."

Now Ziva was really confused. "I don't?"

Abby nodded sagely. "No, you want much more than that from him."

Ziva pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting off the headache that was worming its way up her spine. "Abby, I can't do this," she answered and they both knew that she meant more than just the conversation.

Abby regarded her sadly for a moment before a spark lit in her eyes. "Okay, I hear ya. So, in that case, what you need is a distraction."

Ziva looked up almost hopefully. "What kind of distraction?"

Abby smiled triumphantly. "What you need is to go on a blind date."

The Mossad officer wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow as she tried to process what the younger woman was telling her. "I do not see, Abby, how going on a date with a visually-impaired man would solve my problem."

"Yeah, if he asks you if you want to hold his cane, you might wanna think twice."

"Tony!" Abby admonished as the senior agent breezed into the lab.

"Sorry," he replied, shrugging innocently. "Couldn't help myself. So, why is Ziva dating some blind guy?"

Abby huffed in mild frustration, before the mischievous sparkle returned to her eyes. "She's not. I'm setting her up on a blind date."

Ziva observed their exchange with a mounting sense of trepidation, terrified that Abby in her exuberance might reveal her greatest weakness. She surreptitiously edged closer to the forensic scientist, hoping to get within at least tripping distance before Abby let anything vital slip. Tony's voice brought her back to the conversation.

"Why would you need a blind date, Ziva? I thought Mossad's Mr. October was keeping you busy."

Her suddenly eyes shot to his, her glare sharp and accusatory.

"How do you know about that?"

Tony had the good sense to take a step back, his eyes casting about the room for the nearest shield should things get really hairy.

"I, uh –"

"They broke up." Abby's almost gleeful assertion gave him a stay of execution. Grasping the verbal life-vest with both hands, he slipped into full teasing mode.

"Oh really?" Tony drew out the word like a piece of soft taffy.

If possible, Ziva's glare grew darker and Tony struggled to suppress a flinch, but neither managed to get a word in around Abby.

"Yeah, an' Ziva's been all depressed and frustrated, so I thought a blind date would be a good distraction." The wicked smile that crossed Abby's face was so fleeting, neither agent noticed. "And you never know, maybe she'll meet 'the one.'" She brought her finger to her lips in sudden inspiration. "Yeah, and I know just the guy!"

Ziva was truly worried now. "It's alright, Abby. I am fine. I do not need to meet someone new."

But Abby wasn't going to be easily swayed. Ducking into her office, she came back out flipping through what could only be an address book. "I know he's in here somewhere," she muttered, thumbing through the pages. Finally landing on the desired page, she dropped the book onto the counter and proceeded to copy down the vitals before handing the note to Ziva, who took it with obvious reluctance.

"He plays on one of the teams in our bowling league, works for State as a translator. Oh, this is perfect ... oh, and he's not bad looking, either. He's got the best arms. I mean, I always knew men had arms, but whoa ... and his wrists ... and wrists lead to hands and hands are always a good thing–"

"Abby!" Ziva said sharply, in an effort to derail her runaway train of thought. "I don't see what we could possibly have in common."

Abby, however, was clearly enamoured with her sudden brainwave and pled her case with conviction. "No, this is perfect; he speaks French and you speak French. The two of you could get together and, y'know, speak French."

The Israeli's face clouded with confusion. "Is 'speaking French' a euphemism for something I am not aware of in America?"

"Yeah, the two of you can make 'sweet French' together." Tony couldn't quite keep the sharp tang of bitterness out of his voice and both women looked over at him sharply.

"What the hell are you talking about, Tony?" Abby asked.

The conversation was quickly ended by the sharp 'thwack' of a hand to the back of Tony's head. "It better be about how Lieutenant Kaplan's blood ended up on Corporal Saunders' chainsaw."

The two seconds it took Gibbs to stride into the room and hand off his customary Caf-Pow to Abby was all it took to end the moment and swing the mood in the room back to professional. Still, Ziva couldn't completely focus on the facts of the case as they bandied theories back and forth. The cacophony in her mind had returned, made louder now by Abby's words and her own admissions. Glancing surreptitiously at Tony, she caught him staring back at her, his eyes dark and strangely unreadable.

Caught, he glanced away and the cold that settled into her bones at the loss of contact unnerved her greatly. She couldn't continue on in this state for much longer. She needed to get Tony out of her mind, get her head on straight and move on with her life, now that she had decided that her life would remain here in D.C. The small piece of paper, still tucked into her hand tugged at her thoughts. She rubbed her thumb slowly back and forth over the smooth surface before slipping the note into her pocket. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe a distraction was just the thing she needed.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Divertimento**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to NCIS, just the thoughts in my head.

**Rating**: K+

**Summary**: def –n. a momentary diversion. Sometimes a little diversion all you need to get you on the right track

**Spoilers: **a few mentions of Knockout, Recoil and Dagger, but nothing big.

**Author's Notes**: Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement on part 1. Sorry this second part took so long. Real life for both my editor and I, coupled with the finale, scuttled this story for a little while, but here's the second and final part. I hope it lives up to expectations. It turned out a little mushier than I'd originally planned, but after the angst-fest of the finale, it might be a nice reprieve.

* Again, a big thanks as always to my dear friend and eagle-eyed editor Joy. Your attention to detail and sense of humour make reading your edits just as much fun as writing the story.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Clearly, he was losing his mind.

He had to be; it was the only logical explanation for why he was sitting in an NCIS sedan across the street from a Georgetown bistro in the pouring rain, plotting ways to kill a certain meddlesome forensic scientist. Yup, definitely losing his mind.

It was Friday night, and despite the inclement weather the street was still bustling with people, but Tony was only interested in one. She'd stepped out of a cab and entered the bistro 18 minutes ago, and dammit, she'd looked hot. Problem was, she was in there, with someone else, and he was out here.

It was all Abby's fault, hence the plotting.

He hadn't known what was bothering his partner, but he'd been ready. Ready, to step up and be whatever Ziva needed him to be: a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on ... someone to hold her. However, that ship had sailed before he'd even had a chance to step onto the dock, all thanks to Abby's 'distraction'.

He was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get off the see-saw they called a relationship. Contrary to popular belief, Tony was neither completely blind, nor completely stupid. The tension that had been stringing between them since nearly the moment they'd met had grown over the last five years into an almost tangible thing. It was a thing that was getting harder and harder to ignore, yet they just never seemed to be on the same page. Hell, Tony wasn't even sure sometimes that they were reading the same book.

A lot of that, however, was intentional, at least on his part. Ziva wasn't a viable option. The truth was that she scared the hell out of him. It had nothing to do with her talent in maiming people using office supplies. No, his fear was much more deeply rooted than that. He felt its icy fingers teasing his heart not when she was glowering and threatening, but when she'd look at him and her eyes were soft, the woman beneath the warrior showing through the cracks. The pull would be almost overwhelming, but then fear's ruthless grip would drag him back from the brink.

Anyone who knew him might assume that it was just a case of the confirmed playboy not wanting to settle down, but as he'd entered the realm of his forties, his fear of commitment had been slowly replaced by the worry of ending up alone, with nothing else to do but drink bourbon and try and build a boat in his basement. As much as he admired his boss, Tony didn't find that future all too appealing.

Someone who knew him better might think that the disaster that was Jeanne Benoit had left him a little gun-shy, so to speak. A year ago that would've been true, but that wasn't what kept him up at night. The wisdom that can only come from time and distance had made him realize that while whatever it was he'd had with Jeanne had been his first real experience with 'love' and all of its complications, it had never been completely real and so, ultimately, it had been safe, in a way. Ziva was anything but safe. While his relationship with Jeanne may have involved jumping off a cliff, anything with Ziva would be like running full bore off the top of a mountain.

That mountain was starting to look less and less like Everest, but he still held himself back. Every time he'd been drawn into her orbit, toyed with the idea of getting closer to the ledge, Tony had consciously pulled away, rule number twelve and the memory of the photograph of another man, hidden under the blotter of her desk within her easy reach, rushing to the forefront of his mind like a giant red stop sign. He was finding it easier to discount Gibbs' rules, but she'd looked happy the night she'd left again for Tel Aviv and Tony had realized, much to his surprise, that her happiness meant more to him than anything.

That didn't mean he'd shed a tear when he'd heard they'd broken up.

Abby's almost teasing revelation in her lab a few days ago had set his mind spinning, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they would finally end up on the same page at the same time. If they could just reach that point, Tony figured that they could sort out the rest of the issues. However, Abby had quickly forced them to change chapters.

Tony never thought for a moment that Ziva would take Abby's offer seriously. Ziva didn't do blind dates ... right? He'd teased her good naturedly about it on their way back to the bullpen, but her continued withdrawal had had him worried. Then, this morning, Abby had nearly floated past his desk and dropped a piece of paper on the Mossad officer's workspace.

"It's all set," she'd said cheerfully. "Dinner tonight at Giselle's; he'll be waiting for you at 7:30."

Tony had nearly choked on his coffee. There was no way she was going through with this? A blind date? It was the epitome of desperate and Ziva was anything but desperate. The latent frat boy in him was gearing up for a good razzing, when he'd caught her eye. She'd looked shy, almost embarrassed to have this little fact announced so publically. It was reminiscent of the look she'd given him after Agent Lee's death and Tony decided suddenly to keep his mouth shut, to let her have this distraction, to let her try to be happy.

Despite this resolution, he'd somehow found himself parked in the shadows outside Giselle's, trying not to think about her laughing at another man's jokes. He hadn't intended to stalk her. Tony had fully intended to go straight home and nurse his chronic singleness with a healthy dose of Jack Daniels. However, his heart had had other plans and it had apparently instructed the rest of him to sign out a company car and head to Georgetown. He tried to tell himself that he was here in case anything got hinky, but he knew that was crap.

Ziva was the poster child for being able to take care of herself. She was more than capable of handling an unruly date. She –

A knock on the window drew him from his musings. Distractedly, he glanced up at the source of his interruption.

She was standing right outside his window.

Tony hoped the gulp that slid down his throat couldn't be heard through the glass. The rain had stopped, and the reflection of the streetlights in the droplets accumulated on his window glowed brightly, surrounding the ex-assassin like a halo. She looked like some sort of avenging angel. He wondered, absently, just how far he could get before she shot his tires out from underneath him if he pulled away now.

Trying for his most charming smile, and failing, Tony slowly lowered the window. The suddenly more mortal-looking Ziva glowered at him, hands placed firmly on her hips.

"There had better be something illegal going on at –"she glanced over her shoulder to read the sign on the business next to the restaurant. "Bob's Bait and Tackle, or you will find out just how many different ways I can kill you with a hairpin."

Tony cringed at the thought and ventured weakly, "I don't suppose you'd believe I was in the neighbourhood?"

Ziva snorted in derision. "No, I would not."

He watched her anxiously, completely at a loss for something to say, something that would keep her from walking away angry, something that wouldn't have her not speaking to him come Monday.

'_You did not think this through.'_

Her words to him from a little over a year ago rang just as true now and they did then. He really hadn't thought this through. One minute, he was mentally debating the relative entertainment value of a Bond versus Magnum marathon, the next he was staging an impromptu stakeout. It was just listening to Abby go on about how this guy could be 'the one' and how Ziva needed a 'fresh start' and suddenly, he just couldn't let her go through with it. He was so close to figuring out this 'thing' between them and if she went and met someone else, it would run his train of thought right off the rails. He just needed a little more time. Driving on autopilot to Georgetown, Tony had toyed with some half-baked plan of stopping her before she'd gone into the restaurant, but he'd been rooted to his seat. She'd disappeared into the building and he'd stayed there, watching her go ... again.

He'd done it before, with Roy and Locke and the two trips to Israel. In each instance it got a little harder; by the last time it had actually hurt, but Tony never said anything. He didn't know what to say. She was standing next to him now, here with him and not with that other guy, and still Tony didn't know what to say.

Apparently, his silence said enough.

"Why are you here, Tony?" She prodded. "Come to sabotage my evening, yes?"

Her words snapped him out of his musing. "What, no! I'm not sabotaging anything. I'm just sitting here –" Tony searched frantically for words, as his brain tried to process the situation. Suddenly he had a revelation. "Wait. I didn't _do_ anything. You came to me. You should be in there, with him, eating overpriced French food, but you're not." His brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you not?"

Ziva seemed to deflate somewhat at his question, the edge of indignant anger leaving her body in a rush of breath. "I walked out on him," she admitted.

Tony's confusion quickly morphed into concern. "Why? What did he do?"

Ziva dropped her gaze from his, digging the toe of her shoe into one of the small puddles that dotted the street. "He, uh, apparently was only really interested in 'making sweet French together' as soon as possible."

Tony fought to cover the sudden surge of protectiveness that threatened to overtake him. Ziva could most definitely handle herself. "And you didn't go all ninja on his ass?"

Ziva laughed softly, the hint of a wicked smile tugging at her lips. "I just bought this dress, Tony. It is much too soon to get blood on it."

Tony laughed in return, but it died in his throat as his eyes travelled her form, taking in the aforementioned dress. Though she tended to downplay it most of the time, Ziva was comfortable with her body and knew how to show off her beauty when she wanted to. Tonight, apparently, she'd wanted to. The navy blue jersey dress was simple, but it clung to her curves in all the right places before flaring out at her knees in a way that had Tony wishing for an air vent. The strains of 'Devil in a Blue Dress' ran through his mind suddenly. He swallowed convulsively.

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Ziva couldn't suppress the shiver that chased its way down her spine at Tony's blatant perusal. Frustrated by her weakness, she folded her arms across her chest to ward of the sudden chill of the evening. Her movement immediately drew Tony's attention.

"You must be freezing," he ventured, his voice still holding a slight tone of amusement. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

Her response was practically instinctual. "No. It's okay. I was just going to hail a cab."

"For God's sake, Ziva," Tony chastised with just a slight edge. "I've been practically stalking you tonight. The least I can do is drive you home."

Still, she hesitated. After the disaster that was the last half hour, she just wanted to go home, fill her tub with lavender-scented bubbles and wallow in her pathetic attempt at getting a life that didn't involve inappropriate feelings for her partner. She really didn't think she could take being trapped in a car with said partner while he teased her about her momentary lapse in judgement.

"Just get in the damned car, Ziva."

Huffing out a breath, she finally complied, rounding the hood, yanking open the door and slipping into the passenger seat. She slouched slightly in her seat and Tony felt an odd tug in his chest at the disappointment and frustration he saw etched on her face.

"You okay?"

Ziva quickly schooled her expression.

"I am fine."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

She looked up at him sharply, but her planned retort never left her lips. His expression was open and his eyes shone with unexpected concern. Sighing in resignation, she answered honestly.

"I do not know what I was thinking, agreeing to this blind date, as you call it. It was just that Abby was so sure it would be good for me."

Tony cringed. "I'm sorry that he turned out to be such a jackass. I mean, I'm surprised; Abby is usually a good judge of character."

Ziva smiled gratefully. "Yes, it is unusual, though she was right about one thing."

Tony arched an eyebrow in question.

"He did have nice arms."

Tony laughed then. "Yeah, she seemed pretty adamant about that. When I talked to her about it this afternoon, she was pretty convinced that this would be a good evening for you."

"She spoke with you about tonight?" Ziva asked, slightly alarmed to discover that Abby had been discussing her 'situation' with Tony.

"Yeah," he answered. "She'd said that she'd wanted my support with this. Actually," he mused. "It was kinda weird. She kept sayin' something about how I should be there for you as you move forward with-" Tony's eyes went wide as the pieces suddenly fell into place. "Wait a minute ..."

Ziva's expression was a mirror of his own as she reached the same conclusion.

"Do you get the feeling, Officer David, that we've been played?"

A sly smile slipped across her face. "I am beginning to think that Abby is the most dangerous of all of us."

They lapsed into silence, their gazes locked in the dim light of the vehicle. Ziva broke away first, suddenly uncomfortable with the notion that Abby had set them up and the implications of what it revealed.

"Now what?" she questioned softly, her voice laced with an unexpected shyness.

Tony considered her question for a moment. If Abby had gone to all of this trouble just to get them alone together, she must have sensed feelings in both of them ... right? Maybe they were closer to being on the same page than he'd thought. Taking a deep breath, he took a big step closer to the ledge.

"Well, the night is young, and I'd hate to see you waste a perfectly good dress."

She eyed him warily. "What did you have in mind?"

Tony flashed her his most charming smile as he turned the key in the ignition. "I've got an idea."

* * *

It was a good idea ... a really good idea, Ziva mused as she took the proffered pita from Tony's hands. She'd walked out on her date before they'd had made it to the main course and the appetizing aroma of chicken souvlaki made her suddenly realize that she was starving.

The waters of the Tidal Basin lapped gently against the shore, providing a calming soundtrack to the evening, washing over the din of distant traffic. They settled on a bench in the shade of the cherry trees overlooking the artificial lake and tucked into their dinner. The blossoms were fading and petals littered the grass, knocked unceremoniously to the ground by the earlier downpour, but their sweet scent lingered in the damp air and Ziva found herself pulling in deep breaths in an effort to surround herself with the fragrance.

The park was surprisingly quiet for this time of year, the rains having driven away the bulk of the tourists that descended on the city for the Cherry Blossom Festival, which was now nearing its end. The uncharacteristic stillness of both the night and her partner was at the same time a blessing and a curse. After a week of gruesome crime scenes, exhausting chases, interrogations and general human suffering, the calm was a soothing balm to her body, washing away the physical tension with each gentle wave against the sand. However, to her mind, the silence was dangerous, stretching out before her like a blank canvas, daring her subconscious to paint a multitude of scenarios that she'd rather not examine at the moment... or ever for that matter.

He'd followed her. She'd taken the first step in her effort to move on in her life, to move away from this ridiculous obsession with _him_ and he'd followed her.

Tony hadn't said a word since they'd left the car and started their walk around West Potomac Park; still, she was almost painfully aware of him. His presence tugged at her senses, the warmth of his body seeping into her side, the cadence of his breath nearly matching the rhythm of her own. It was at once just like every other moment they'd spent together and completely unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was as though a switch had been flipped, ramping up the current that had hummed gently between them for years into an almost inescapable force field.

The small voice within her heart was screaming, 'Finally!' but her brain was still frozen in fear. Sure, she'd wondered if they'd ever manage to find themselves on the same page at the same time, but she never thought it would actually happen. There were so many reasons that exploring this 'thing' between them was a bad idea. Rule number twelve was only the tip of a very large iceberg, but her heart just wasn't listening. No matter what she tried to tell herself, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that there was nothing beyond friendship between them, Ziva just kept coming back to the fact that he'd followed her and that he was here, now, bringing a little light to the darkness that surrounded her.

Tony continued to sit silently on the bench, seemingly focussed only on finishing his impromptu dinner, and Ziva was beginning to wonder if she really was imagining the whole thing.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

It took a moment for her to realize that he'd actually said something. Ziva's brows furrowed in confusion as her mind processed the words. It was definitely not what she'd been expecting.

"What?"

Tony smiled softly, his eyes trained over the water as he wiped his hands off on his jeans.

"The night, here, it's beautiful."

Ziva tore her gaze away from his profile to take in her surroundings. Framed by the delicate boughs of the cherry trees, the sill waters of the basin shone with the reflected lights of the city. The ghostly white figures of the Jefferson Memorial and the Washington Monument rose up like some mythical bastions of the gods against the night sky. It was breathtaking, really.

She nodded in agreement. "I have lived here for nearly five years and I don't think I have ever really taken the time to notice just how beautiful it is."

Tony turned suddenly and snagged her gaze, his blue eyes fathomless in the dim light of the streetlamp. "Sometimes, I think we take for granted the beautiful things that have been right in front of us all along."

Ziva couldn't help the catch in her breath at his words, but Tony knew how to deliver a line and her inner cynic just wouldn't let go. Arching an eyebrow, she replied, "Is this your way of picking me up on the bounce-back?"

Tony's earnest expression shifted into one of utter confusion until his inner Ziva-English dictionary managed to make the translation. "You mean rebound, Ziva," he answered, unable to suppress a chuckle.

Ziva only gazed back at him expectantly.

His mirth suddenly changed to indignation at her implication. "What?" Tony spluttered. "You think that... No! Of course not, I-"

Relief and disappointment warred within her heart as she watched him struggle for purchase. This was the Tony she knew. This was normal. _They_ were normal and if she could just get these fantasies out of her head, they could settle back into their partnership, friendship, or whatever it was they wanted to call it and get on with their lives. With a soft sigh, Ziva made to stand, only to be stilled by Tony's hand clasping her wrist tightly, his warm fingers setting her senses aflame.

"Don't run."

Startled, Ziva glanced back at her partner only to find the confusion and befuddlement gone, replaced with an intensity that robbed her of her breath. His eyes bored into hers, daring her to pretend that things were normal, that they hadn't finally found themselves on the edge of a line they had been dancing around for years. Ducking his head, he made sure he held her gaze and whispered.

"I'm tired of pretending."

For one painful moment her heart stopped before it decided to make a break from her chest, hammering almost frantically against her ribs. They'd had this conversation before, and she couldn't help the sharp pang of fear that she was once again headed for heartbreak. But as she searched his face, there was no way she could misunderstand. His eyes were nearly black with resolve and an unmistakable desire that ignited a warmth deep within her core, melting away the last icy tendrils of fear and leaving her vibrating with anticipation. This really was happening. Her heart was practically singing as a shaky smile bloomed across her lips, lighting her face in the darkness as she said the only thing she really could.

"Me too."

Tony had beaten back his fear a while ago. He'd just been searching for the right words. Then it dawned on him that he'd already said them months ago. Sitting on that bench, soaking in the comfort of Ziva's presence, he'd realized just how close he'd come to never getting to this point. While her date tonight had never really been a threat, Tony had found himself cataloguing all the times he'd let her slip through his fingers. He was sure that there would be only so many instances that she would come back within his grasp and this time he was going to hang on tight.

Now, he could feel her pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips, an insistent rhythm that matched his own racing heart. He shifted on the bench to face his partner more fully and reached up to trail his fingers through her thick curls, marvelling at their softness. His heart swelled unexpectedly as she leaned ever so slightly into his touch. Her dark eyes were luminous, shining with unshed tears. They still held a hint of wariness, but behind the clouds, Tony could see a spark of hope and something he couldn't yet put a name to shining within their depths. His last coherent thought before he closed his eyes and dove off the cliff was, _'We'll make this work.'_

Ziva didn't want to close her eyes, afraid that if she did, it would all evaporate in front of her and she'd discover that it was just another dream. But Tony's fingers threading through her hair felt very real, and she couldn't suppress the shiver that raced down her spine as his lips first made tentative contact with hers.

"You cold?" he whispered unsteadily against her mouth, his breath fanning across her face.

She closed the gap a little further, resting her forehead against his, drawing deeply from his warmth.

"No," she murmured, quickly erasing the space between them and capturing his lips again with her own. She felt like she was drowning, inundated by his touch, his scent and the taste of him. The warmth that had been churning in her belly spread like fire through her veins, igniting her senses as she slid her lips over his again and again. She'd kissed many men in her life, including Tony, but this was nothing like the lust-filled kisses they'd shared undercover so many years ago. The wave of emotion that threatened to overtake her as his other hand released her own and stole around her waist was both terrifying and exhilarating. Closing her eyes, she finally gave in and let the current they were creating sweep her away.

Eventually the need for oxygen was too much to bear and they broke apart. Tony drew away slowly, reluctant to lose contact now that he knew what it felt like. Carefully sucking in air, he held himself close, pressing his temple against her soft skin. He was suddenly afraid to look into her eyes, unsure of what he might find. Rationally, he knew that she was as much a participant in that kiss as he was, but doubt was a hard thing to shake.

Then he felt it, the slow spread of a smile, tugging at her cheek, urging him to do the same. Pulling back he was immediately snagged by her watery gaze. She was radiant, her smile lighting up her countenance, almost obliterating the shadows of fear that had clouded her eyes ... almost.

Inching forward, he nuzzled her cheek gently, whispering against her skin.

"It's alright. I'm scared too."

Ziva sucked in a startled breath. She hadn't realized that those were the words she'd needed to hear until they'd left his mouth. Pulling back she searched his face, overwhelmed by what she found there. The desire which had darkened his eyes earlier had eased for the moment, leaving them a steely blue, filled with resolve and a light that tugged at something deep within her.

This whole thing was crazy and she knew it. Just because they both suddenly realized that they wanted the same thing didn't mean that all the reasons that this was a spectacularly bad idea would suddenly vanish like dust in the wind. However, Ziva found that she just couldn't bring herself to care anymore. She was tired of running and she'd found the only place she wanted to rest.

Her own gaze filled with determination and overwhelming affection, she nodded firmly and whispered, "Okay," before leaning forward suddenly and pressing her lips to his in a chaste but powerful kiss.

When her eyes slipped open again, she found him still staring at her, his smile softened slightly by a hint of relief.

"Okay," he replied, turning back towards the lake and reaching out to tuck her into his side. She came willingly, inhaling his familiar scent mixed with the fragrance of cherry blossoms. Gazing out over the waters, Ziva felt her heart settle into a comfortable rhythm, slowing along with his pulse that she could feel beneath the hand she had tucked up under the lapels of his jacket. They still had a lot to talk about, and she dreaded the day they would have to face Gibbs, but tonight she was content to revel in the peace that had settled over them like a blanket.

A gentle breeze eddied up from the surface of the water, tugging the already loosened petals from their calyxes and sending a shower of pink fluttering down over the couple. Ziva shivered and Tony pulled her in tighter, dropping a gentle kiss into her hair. A distant siren cut through the cocoon of silence that enveloped them, taunting the agents with the reminder that they would have to return to the real world soon enough, a world full of work, of fear, of complications and distractions. Still, neither showed any signs of moving, content to share their strength and their warmth, knowing that they were finally in this together.


End file.
